Sanity
by TheMidnightSprite
Summary: "L knew once you were branded with a mental problem, that was it. That was the end. You could never escape from that stigma."  Threeshot? L is taken for counselling by a concerned Watari, and then... My first try writing non-crack, beware D:
1. Chapter 1

**Woah. Would you believe I was trying to write a crack fic? xD**  
><strong>This was supposed to be a humorous fic where L has embarrassing dreams and Watari takes him to see a counsellor. But instead it turned into this depressing thing. <strong>  
><strong>I know this sucks, but I guess it gives me practice writing in different genres. <strong>  
><strong>At the end, he isn't dead (I'M NOT GOING TO KILL L D;) but I couldn't be bothered sticking around to see what happens when he regains consciousness. Haha XD. <strong>  
><strong>And I suppose this would have to be before the Kira case, or at the start. No, before.<strong>  
><strong>I look forward to your flamesno responses and this fic being completely ignored TT^TT. Crack is what I'm best at writing, not angst (is this angst? e_e)...**

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><p>L shifted awkwardly in the oversized cream armchair. It was a comfortable piece of furniture, one that was supposed to make you feel relaxed and at ease. It was just like the rest of the room's decor. But it was all having the opposite effect on L.<p>

Never had he been in such a situation.

Throughout his entire life, people had accepted him as himself. Throughout all his days at the orphanage, and in his career as a top detective, people had let him do his own thing. They had never questioned any of his unusual habits or quirks. He had been left to his own devices, because he was L, the world's greatest detective. Of course he knew what he was doing. He had to. Millions were counting on him, most unknowingly so. He saved lives daily. He was L, and he did things his way.

He had never been told he needed help, never been told he had a problem. Never.

Until now.

Next to him, in an identical cream armchair, sat Watari, the man who was to blame for the current situation. He patted L's shoulder in a way that was meant to be reassuring, but L just flinched. There was nothing wrong with L, nothing. Watari was worrying about nothing. This was all a waste of time, a waste of valuable time that could be used solving almost impossible cases and saving countless people's lives.

The counsellor sat behind her desk, leaning forward to show she was interested in whatever L and Watari had to say, wearing a friendly smile, palms open, head cocked slightly to the right.

L knew all her tricks. She was using friendly body language. She was a fake. She and Watari were trying to reassure him, trying to get him to open up about his "problem". But it wasn't a problem. Nothing was wrong with L. Everyone was against him, he couldn't win.

"Now, Ryuzaki, I understand you have an issue you want to talk about?" the woman spoke softly, not too loud, that might startle him, make him not want to open up about his non-existent problem. And the "Ryuzaki". Approaching him on a personal level. Trying to make this seem like a conversation between two friends, like they had known each other for more than five minutes. Tricks, cons, scams, she was trying to manipulate him. But she would not succeed. She would not break him.

"I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I have no current "issues" that I wish to discuss."

Even if he did have issues, he could handle them fine on his own. He could handle everything. L wished everyone would just leave him alone, he was the world's greatest detective, he didn't have dilemmas outside cases. There was nothing wrong with him.

"Ryuzaki..." Watari begin, in a voice as gentle as the counsellor's, "I don't think that's quite the truth..."

But it was the truth. L was telling the truth. Why would nobody listen to him now? Why did everybody doubt his sanity all of a sudden? He solved cases thought to be impossible in a few hours, he was capable of sums that normal people needed calculators to work out, he could speak 27 languages fluently. His mind was one of the world's greatest, and here he was, in a room themed for comfort, being doubted by some idiotic counsellor and the closest thing he had to a father figure about his mental health.

"I think you'll find that is 100% the truth, Watari." L turned to the counsellor. "I apologize for wasting your time, but we must leave."

L began to rise from his chair, but Watari put his hand on the young man's shoulder with a pained expression.

"Please, Ryuzaki..." the elderly man pleaded. "Sit down."

But L couldn't sit down, he couldn't, he didn't belong in this place, he wasn't insane, he had to escape before they could get him!

L knew once you were branded with a mental problem, that was it. That was the end. You could never escape from that stigma.

It would follow him everywhere. He would be told he was no longer fit to work on such important police cases, with his damaged state of mind. His reputation as "L, the world's greatest detective" would transform into "Ryuzaki, the crazy mental patient".

The pain coursed through his arm at Watari's touch, but it dulled the pain he was feeling inside. No, he wasn't feeling pain inside. He felt nothing, he couldn't feel anything, he couldn't afford to have feelings.

"NO, I REFUSE TO SIT HERE AND MAKE SMALL-TALK WHILE THERE ARE CASES TO BE SOLVED, WATARI! I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM!"

L leapt out of the armchair, and made for the door, but before he could reach the handle, a firm hand grasped his arm and pulled him back. Searing pain ran through his entire body as he hit the floor with impact, the sensation making him cringe in agony. But the physical agony distracted him, it helped him, it was his only real friend, his ally.

"RYUZAKI, YOU'RE SICK!"

Watari was near tears, and L felt a twinge of guilt when he saw his mentor's face. But he couldn't help what the old man was feeling, Watari was wrong.

"Please, get up and discuss this, we're both here to help you, Ryuzaki."

Help. He didn't need help. If he had needed help, he would have asked. He wouldn't have been forced into Watari's car and taken here, to this room, with this woman.

This was no help.

It was all too much, the room began swirling, his eyes began clouding up, his insides churned and constricted, there were too many emotions, they were overpowering him.

He had to get rid of them, his emotions were ruining him, they were destroying him. He couldn't have emotions. He couldn't be like this. He couldn't be human.

The red spread from his shoulder, and down his arm, he felt the hot wetness spreading on his back, the pain feeling good, numbing him from everything else. He concentrated on just the pain, the sweet, physical pain he deserved so much.

The fresh wounds must have opened again.

The last thing he saw was Watari's torn face, looking down at him with a helpless expression.

And then even Watari became a dizzy blur, and L floated into unconsciousness, where nothing could hurt him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Um...  
>I didn't actually intend to upload a second chapter, but all of you guys were like "UPDATE! :D" and I started to feel guilty and I... I COULDN'T FIND THE "Complete" BUTTON D; *hides face in shame*<br>So now I'll need to change the summary to "two-shot", right? ^^;;;  
>This chapter sucks as well, I had no idea what was going on as I wrote it 8D. Plus, I didn't know how to end it. Sorry.<br>****And thank you for all your nice reviews, this is just a kind of practice fic, to hone my non-existent skills. Please help me out and give me critique. Please. PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU *grabs you by the shoulders*  
>WELL. I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE OR WHERE YOU'RE FROM, BUT READ ON, MY FRIEND *^*. (If you want).<br>(I really want to name this chapter "Sanitizer and Vomit" but that sounds weird.)****  
><strong>

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><p><em>I'm dead.<em>

This was all L could think as he fell through the constant darkness. It was like a giant tunnel, only leading downwards. A downwards spiral. He couldn't do anything to stop himself falling. He wasn't in control of anything anymore.

He threw out his arms, outstretched his hands, felt the cool air filter between his fingers. He tilted his head to the right and saw blackness. It was the same when he looked to the left. He didn't try turning around and looking up, because he knew he'd get the same result. Blackness. There was nothing there. He was falling through nothingness.

But this did not worry him. It was refreshing, in fact. For once, he was surrounded by nothing. He had nothing to think about. He had no responsibilities to attend to. He had no urgent cases waiting for him. There was no-one and nothing here. No-one to show concern when another scar appeared on his wrist. No-one to look worried when the bags under his eyes turned coal-black. No-one to tell him there was something wrong with him. Just empty nothingness.

He closed his eyes, he didn't need them anymore. He didn't need any of his senses anymore. He no longer existed.

But wait. He was thinking.

_If I can produce thoughts, if my brain is still active…_

_I think, therefore I am._

_I can't... I must be alive… somehow…_

If he was alive, then what was happening? Where was he? Why couldn't he stop falling? What was going on?

He snapped his eyes open, the previously comforting darkness now terrifying. The breeze he felt now became freezing, beginning to hurt his body with its numbing temperature. His body stung with cold and all of a sudden he could feel the wounds covering almost all of his body again, the breeze transforming into a brutal wind, buffeting the deep scars and striking him with powerful blows.

The pain was back, and L was lost.

His ears were now ringing, the relentless gust howling past them. He tried to move his arms to cover his ears, but the force of the wind was too strong, and he found he couldn't move his body against the invisible wall of air.

He was trapped. He screamed.

He found himself yelling Watari's name, wanting the old man to somehow stop this chaos and take L away from all this pain.

Faint shouts reached his ears. Someone was yelling something from afar.

The shouts got louder, and L could barely make out his name from the distorted voice. He responded by screaming louder and louder. Louder. If he could make his voice loud enough, this nightmare would all end.

The distance was becoming brighter. There was a blindingly bright light at the bottom of this seemingly never-ending abyss. L slammed his eyes shut - they were barely open anyway - and let out one last strangled scream before the darkness ended and the light overtook him.

"Ryuzaki!"

L shot up, his eyes snapping open and taking in the light. As soon as he did this, a frantic beeping began. He yelled out of panic again, unsure of his surroundings.

"STOP, MAKE THIS END!"

"Lie back down, Ryuzaki, it's okay, you're in a safe place!"

A hand was placed on top of his, it was meant to be a gesture of safety, but it put the detective more on edge.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, WHOEVER YOU ARE!"

"Please, Ryuzaki, calm down!"

Calm down. Yes. He needed to calm down, and process his situation and surroundings. He was acting insane. He needed to think things through logically. He couldn't let his confusion get the better of him. He couldn't let them get him.

L tried to make sense of his location.

He was in a bed, but it was not his own. No, that didn't make sense. All of the beds he slept in – on the rare occasions that he slept – were hotel beds. He didn't actually have a bed of his own. But this was not the bed from his room in the current hotel Watari and him were staying in. He was sure of that.

It was a bed with clean white sheets, and a clean white pillow. The duvet covering his lower body was exactly the same. Clean and white.

There were metal bars around the side of the bed, most likely to support people getting in and out of it. Next to the bed was an assortment of medical-looking machines, and a large bedside cabinet. It too, was clean and white.

He studied the room containing the bed. There was an old-looking black TV, with its remote lying on the bedside cabinet. Also on the cabinet was a vase filled with sickly-smelling yellow flowers. Just looking at them gave the detective a headache.

The scent of the flowers partly disguised the thick smell of sanitizer and vomit.

The floor was tiled, and also looked impeccably clean.

Near his bed was an armchair and a couple of plastic chairs. Watari sat in the armchair, his face looking as concerned as before. Standing next to his bed was a nurse, still with her hand over his.

He was in a hospital room.

_No. Why am I here? What ward is this? They… can't have. He can't have. He can't have done this to me. _

"Are you feeling calmer now, Ryuzaki?" The nurse talked to him like he was a small child, like he had trouble understanding things. Like he was stupid.

He moved his hand away from under hers, and stared at the wall opposite him. This was all just another dream. It had to be. Watari couldn't have taken him here, to this hospital. He grabbed the sheets with both hands and dug his fingernails into the material. His head was spinning.

"Ryuzaki?" It was the voice of _him._ Of that traitor. He had trusted Watari. And now… now he had gotten him into an impossible situation. Everyone around him now thought of him as mentally ill. As incapable.

L shut his eyes and tried to stop his emotions from taking over him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey *^*.  
>Sorry for leaving you for, like, 5 months. I didn't mean to, but every time I thought about writing something I just couldn't...<br>And I don't know what this chapter is, it's really weird, and YES, L IS HEARING VOICES, HOW CLICHE.  
>It's also shorter [<em>and much worse<em>] than the last, which is really annoying because I tried to make it longer [_and better_] but I didn't know what else to put...  
>AND FFFF- I DON'T KNOW WHAT L IS DOING AT THE END, TO BE HONEST. I WAS ACTUALLY LAUGHING A BIT AT THIS CHAPTER, IT'S SO RANDOM O_o. And woah, the voice really has a way with words e_e;;<br>Anyway, thank you for all your nice reviews, again... AND YES, HOSPITALS HAVE SUCH AN INTOXICATING SMELL. ALSO, JUST BECAUSE I'M THINKING OF NAMING MY CHAPTERS DOESN'T MEAN I'M CONTINUING.  
>... But I would call this one Bloody Petals and Voices if I was naming it ¬_¬<strong>

**Unrelated question: Do you like yaoi?**

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><p><em>"Are you feeling calmer now, Ryuzaki?" The nurse talked to him like he was a small child, like he had trouble understanding things. Like he was stupid.<em>

_He moved his hand away from under hers, and stared at the wall opposite him. This was all just another dream. It had to be. Watari couldn't have taken him here, to this hospital. He grabbed the sheets with both hands and dug his fingernails into the material. His head was spinning._

_"Ryuzaki?" It was the voice of him. Of that traitor. He had trusted Watari. And now… now he had gotten him into an impossible situation. Everyone around him now thought of him as mentally ill. As incapable._

_L shut his eyes and tried to stop his emotions from taking over him again._

No.

"Yes."

"I would like some time by myself to…" Panic. Worry. Scheme. Scream. Process. Wonder. Why. Why. Why? "… think, if you don't mind." L said the words mechanically, struggling desperately to slip the mask he had been living behind for years back on. He really shouldn't be surprised that Watari had betrayed him. Really, who hadn't betrayed him? His life was a metaphor for isolation and betrayal.

"No problem, Mr Watari and I will give you some time to yourself. If you need anything, just pull the red cord next to your bed and me or one of the other nurses will come running, okay?" The nurse, it appeared, also favoured wearing masks. A big fake smile was plastered across her face as she spoke, making L wonder what she was really thinking. Probably how she hated her job, hated this building with its sickly smell and deranged patients and snide colleagues and broken coffee machines. Hated this, hated trying to talk with countless numbers of psychos every day, hated the psychos, hated them. Hated him.

"Yes."

With that, the nurse walked out of the room, expecting Watari to follow.

"Ryuzaki… I'll come back tomorrow, okay?" Watari gazed at L, his eyes still full of concern and now a hint of something else – maybe remorse, regret. But L did not see these emotions, as his attention had turned back to the white wall ahead of him.

"Yes."

A mechanical reply, once more. Watari nodded once, unsure. "Okay."

Then he left.

The light from the corridor disappeared as the old man closed the door, and the incessant noises outside were muffled slightly. This was a small relief; the lights in the hospital were far too bright. So bright that their reflection bounced off the shiny floors and intensified the white of the walls and caused everyone to sweat from the heat they radiated. They were almost blinding.

And the noises, coughing and murmuring and obsessive chanting and machines beeping and the occasional spontaneous outburst from a disoriented patient. They all merged into one big buzzing noise that filled L's head with constant static, so loud that he couldn't hear his own thoughts sometimes, just a loud buzz of confusion. Then other noises would break through the static. Voices, but not his own. Voices that he had tried to forget over the years, memories he had tried to suppress. But the voices were becoming harder to ignore, they were getting louder and more insistent, and sometimes L found himself enjoying their company, taking some comfort in their presence, even if what they were saying wasn't always friendly.

"We're alone now, L."

The words came from nowhere in particular, they just echoed around the room. L continued to stare at the white wall.

"But we're always alone, anyway. No-one really cares about us, do they? The one person we thought we could trust was lying to our face the whole time. Do you think we deserve that?"

L's gaze did not falter. "Perhaps."

"He's just been using your skills at detective work to make himself look like more of a success. Quillish Wammy, the kind, compassionate man who took in a poor orphaned boy and raised him to be a genius, a detective prodigy who solved his first case at age eight. But that young genius is really a naïve unloved freak with no social skills. A sad, pathetic, worthless freak. Do you want to be a helpless freak forever, L?"

L flinched slightly, but kept looking ahead. "… No."

"Then let's destroy the old man. Let's get revenge, let's make him feel the pain we've felt with 100 times the intensity. Let's watch him burn alone, watch him reach out his hand for us and reject him, let's hear his screams of pain and fear as the life is drained from his frail old body and his dirty, tainted soul is sucked from his eyes." The voice was getting faster, more urgent. It lusted for blood.

"That would make me as sick as the criminals I've devoted my life to imprisoning. I'm not a murderer."

"No, you're just a coward! A _fucking coward_! Maybe you're the one who doesn't deserve to live, you retarded sociopath! Why do you continue to live when no-one loves you? Hell, no-one even _likes_ you! I don't know why I'm even wasting my time on a pathetic insect like you in the first place. You're worthless!"

"I'm not worthless. I…" L trailed off. He couldn't fight back. Because it was true. He _was_ worthless. No-one wanted him. No-one loved him. He was a pointless existence, a burden, a waste of space. Why _was _he alive?

"You're just a nuisance to humanity, a pesky insect that no-one really wants."

It was all true.

"So, instead of killing Watari, why don't you kill yourself?"

Why didn't he?

"You would just be doing the world a favour."

He would.

"But you're so much of a coward you can't even kill yourself!"

The voice was right. Every time he was about to plunge the knife just a bit deeper, something stopped him. _Fear. He was a coward._

"Maybe being in this place will make you actually do it. Do you want to live the rest of your life in this bed, withering away like those disgusting, ugly flowers? Or do you want to die a beautiful death, painting those white walls with a magnificent crimson, filling the air with an intoxicating metal smell, leaving an everlasting scream echoing through the room and fading into the walls to stay for eternity as your heart beats for the last time?"

L imagined the vivid scene the voice was describing, closing his eyes and feeling the blood leave his body, inhaling the scent and watching the room become splattered with red as he left the earth in a glorious display.

But then he felt the pain pulsate through him, and he shot his eyes open to stop the disturbing fantasy, except the pain didn't stop and it just got worse and L was suddenly so confused…

He looked down to find his arm scratched viciously, his pale skin torn and slashed and bleeding, and his fingernails covered in blood.

Had he done that...? He searched for the door and found that it was still shut, with no sign of anyone entering. He must have done it... he hadn't even noticed. What else hadn't he noticed?

He looked at the red pull cord the nurse had pointed out, and then looked at the vase of flowers next to him. He shakily grabbed onto the metal bars fixed to the bed, and turned his body around so that his legs were hanging off the side of the bed. His arms were stinging with pain, but he ignored them, almost hypnotised by the vase of flowers. He raised himself slowly off the bed, and shuffled in his usual hunched-over way to stand in front of the bedside cabinet with the flowers, dismissing the blood that was dripping from the fresh wounds in his arms and hitting the previously impeccable tiled floor. He took a single flower and examined it, seeing how the petals were becoming limp, noticing how the leaves on the stalk were going brown around the edges.

L tore the head off the stalk, then began obsessively ripping the petals from the head, one by one. Blood from his fingers smeared onto the petals as he did this, and before long a shower of bloody petals had floated to the ground. He did the same with the rest of the flowers, covering a few tiles of the floor with a sea of bloody petals.

He looked down at the disgusting bloody mess and fought the stinging sensation in his eyes.

He had to escape.


End file.
